Laudanum
by SilverKleptoFox
Summary: Allen's not the only one that's cursed. Those of the Bookman clan are plagued with a malady of their own: migraines. Lavi/Allen friendship fic.
1. Inkstained

This fic is a collaboration between Silverklepto fox and Alyeth.  
Neither Alyeth nor Silverkleptofox owns -Man, or its characters. They belong to Hoshino Katsura.

* * *

"Ugh, sometimes I swear the Old Panda lives to work me to death." Lavi muttered as he set down a bundle of parchment and slumped next to Allen in the cafeteria at Headquarters. Black rimmed his one green eye, evidence of long hours and sleepless nights.

"Oh, hey Lavi," Allen replied, looking up from his mountain of food to notice the redhead slumped over the table, papers scattered around him every which way. The younger exorcist tapped a chopstick dotingly to his mouth, reluctantly dismissing his food at the arrival of Lavi's unusual gloom. "You look horrible." he added, deciding a direct approach to the matter was best, as the junior Bookman was apt to evade scrutiny when it concerned him.

Lavi mumbled a response, lifting his head to look his friend in the eye and crack a wry smile. "Guess that's to be expected, huh?" He examined his arms crossed on the table, stifling a yawn. Allen glanced at the redhead's exhausted form, noticing his right hand, though obscured, was spotted with ink. Some splotches appeared faded, while others looked fresh; a faint sheen evident with movement. It seemed odd for Lavi to be so withdrawn when normally he was so gesticulate. To observe his hand cradled so protectively was uncharacteristic of the redhead. "I haven't seen you in days. Where have you been?" he inquired, tilting his head concernedly. There was a short silence before Lavi answered.

"Hm? Oh, Jiji's got me recording what happened in the ark last week. He says since he wasn't inside, it's my job to accurately chronicle what exactly conspired within its walls... from the time we first saw the thing until I rejoined Bookman, and then some." Lavi gave an exasperated sigh before continuing. "And when it's for the sake of history, I have to chronicle everything up to clan standards. Every detail, even the most insignificant thing, must be recorded. You know there were exactly 167,983 duplicate keys? That the dimensions of the central tower made it exactly 136 cubits high? It's exhausting." Allen raised his eyebrow quizzically, surprised by Lavi's systematic explanation. Generally, everything Bookman related was kept in extreme confidentiality, and separate from the rest of the Order. The white-haired exorcist decided to try his luck and, playing off of Lavi's fatigue, he would attempt to find out more (whether it was out of sheer interest, concern for his friend or both, he was indelibly curious).

"Um... Lavi, what exactly is a cubit?" he asked blankly, starting small.

"A cubit? It's an ancient form of measurement equaling one forearm, or about 18 inches. Why?"

"Why did you measure the ark in cubits? Why not in meters or feet like the rest of us?"

This time Lavi's eyebrow rose. "Eh? Bookmen don't use English for their official logs, they use Greek. It's more precise. Things that could be interpreted two or more ways in English can only be read one way in Greek. And for measurements, we use Hebrew. It was the first system of measurement in writing, so to avoid mis-communication, everything is converted into cubits, talents, letheks, baths, etc. It's just easier that way." Lavi explained, resting his chin on his hands.

Somehow Allen had struck gold- he was offered insight into the workings of an aspiring Bookman's mind, if only a glance, and yet he was rendered clueless! And did it seem like Lavi was... confiding in him?

"Easier? How is that easier? I don't even know what a lethek is!" Allen blurted, remaining confused while the redhead beside him maintained a lackadaisical countenance.

"It's about 110 liters." Lavi replied without thought. "It is a lot of work I guess, but you get used to it. The constant conversion and translation, I mean, not the erratic hours." Lavi gave a tired sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. "I haven't slept in 3 nights- once a log is started, it is forbidden to abandon one's post until it is finished. It's some crazy bookman rule to keep the records pure, you know... so no one can come in and tamper with them before they're sealed."

Allen frowned, feeling a pang of empathy for his friend. Three days of no sleep? How could anyone record accurately with hours like that? It seemed counter-productive at least. But he almost understood the redhead's devotion. As an exorcist, Allen sacrificed whatever possible to ensure he fulfilled his duty to both humans and Noah.

He decided not to mull over something he couldn't control. Lavi, like him, had priorities, and it was Lavi's business what effect they had on him.

"So I guess that explains why you look like the walking dead?" Allen smirked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Heh, yeah. Just look at the Old Panda. You know the black around his eyes? Most people think it's kohl, but it's actually permanent bruising from years of recording logs by candlelight. That and gallons of coffee... speaking of which..." Lavi trailed off as he rose from his seat to grab a mug of the mind-altering black mud from the counter.

The two exorcists sat in comfortable silence, one sipping coffee while the other consumed inhuman amounts of food. After Lavi's third cup of caffeinated mud and Allen's fifth plate of dango, Bookman happened to drop in the cafeteria. He spotted his apprentice from across the room and sauntered over, glancing at the bound stack of parchment next to Lavi's slumped form.

"Oi, Lavi, Zhè jiāng shì zuì hao de, rúguo ni yu ni de bàogào wánchéng hòu, xuétú." Bookman muttered coarsely. Allen watched, once again confused, as the two members of the Bookman Clan conversed in Mandarin.

"Shì de, tā shì gēnjù nín de yāoqiú zuò, lao xióngmāo." Lavi replied tiredly. Bookman smacked Lavi on the side of his head and walked off with the parchment under his arm.

"What was that all about?" asked Allen, blinking perplexedly.

"Oh, he asked if I was done, I told him I was... and called him a Panda." Lavi rubbed the side of his head. He sighed, getting up from the table as he turned around to walk off when, suddenly, he was hit by a wave of dizziness.

"Whoa..." he barely caught the edge of the table, preventing himself from falling. Allen stood up instantly, reaching for the redhead, concern resurfacing instantly.

"All you alright, Lavi?" But Lavi did not answer. There were lights flashing in his eye, little zig-zags dancing across his vision. This was definitely not good. The last time this happened... he shuddered to think about it. His eye widened at the realization of what was to come, and, gripping the table harder, he steeled himself fruitlessly for an onslaught. He needed to get out of there, fast. He needed to go somewhere... somewhere that ...

"Lavi...?" Allen called out once more, interrupting Lavi's train of thought, worry edging his voice. Lavi's eye snapped back into focus.

"Tell Panda I'll be in the antiquities section." And with that, Lavi was gone, leaving Allen with an empty plate and a full mind clouded with worry.

* * *

Lavi barely shut the library doors when it hit him. Pain split his brain in half, right behind his eye patch, like burning coals in his skull. His hands gripped his cranium, leaning against the wooden barrier, trusting the oak to keep him standing. It was all he could do not to scream, but screaming would just intensify the sensation... he could hear footsteps behind the door, far too loud... pounding in his ears, like great drums rattling his skull. The light pouring in from the stained-glass window burned his eyes, every ray of sun like a white-hot spear into his retinas. Clamping his eyelids shut, he stumbled through the writing-desks and paper-coated floors, his infallible bookman memory guiding him sightlessly through the maze: but even his memory could not successfully combat the dizziness, as he was sent tripping over a pile of books and straight into a bookcase.

The world titled to the side as Lavi collapsed to the ground in a disoriented haze. He dared not open his eyes for fear of the light and what it would accost him... but at least the footsteps outside died down, no longer pounding his temples into pulp. He couldn't think beyond the wall of agony separating his right hemisphere from his left.

And so Lavi remained, crumpled on the library floor, eyes shut tight against the outside world while his sanity teetered on an intangible precipice, until the pain ebbed enough for him to form a coherent thought.

_Why... am I here...? Ow, my head... not this again... need... darkness, quiet... the antiquities section! That's where... I was..._ "nnnnngh!" he moaned in pain as his thoughts came together. Dizziness continued to poke and prod him from the edges of his vision, but he needed to get to his refuge before another wave hit. He pushed off from the floor and used the bookcase to pull himself up until he was standing.

Taking mental note of his surroundings, he triangulated his position. _Stained glass window to the right, ... __Folk Dances of the Kurds__ to the left, ... antiquities is..._ "that way..." he huffed, venturing forward into the blessed darkness, fighting waves of vertigo that very nearly had him on the floor again. This was definitely worse than last time. Then again, the last time this had happened was when he had deleted Deak... Deak didn't want to die... _Maybe that's why he showed up in Rhode's dream-world..._ a wave of nausea quickly silenced that train of thought, but wether it was from the head-splitting pain or from the memory of what the little Noah had done to his mind, he couldn't tell. Thankfully, he found himself at the entrance of the darkest section of the Black Order's Library.

When Lavi first came to the Black Order, it was the first place he sought out; the darkest part of the Library always held the most secrets, and, as a Bookman in a new locale, his thirst for knowledge was insatiable. He spent long hours reading every tome the shelves possessed, until he knew the little niche like the back of his eye patch...

Now that small, quiet space where light didn't reach was a lifesaver- a refuge from the world when it seemed it was pressing down on his very soul.

Lavi fell, nearly boneless, to his knees as the second wave crashed down upon him with all the weight of The Earl's massive form. His stomach curdled at the onslaught, and he fell to the ground, clamping his eyelid shut and cradling his throbbing skull, gasping for breath to stave off the swells of nausea that threatened to make itself real. The pain came in bursts, like tiny soldiers setting off bombs right behind his eyepatch. He could see stars in the darkness, flashing over his field of vision, swimming in and out, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, wishing that it would claim him, but knowing it never would.

And so Lavi remained in the cold, dark silence of the most remote corner of the library, waiting out the ebb and flow of javelins boring into his brain, praying that it would end... one way or another.


	2. Tethered

Neither Silverkleptofox nor Alyeth own -Man. -Man and its characters belong to Katsura Hoshino. No profit is being made from this fan work.

Thanks for waiting! As always , this chapter was written by both Silverkleptofox and Alyeth, and any foreign languages used will be explained within the chapter, or footnoted.

* * *

Allen was both worried and confused, but more so worried.

What had just happened?

Lavi almost fell over, and then he just stared off into space, not responding to Allen's questions whether junior was alright. Shortly after, he left for the library. Perhaps he had a realization and needed to look something up? No, that couldn't be it... Allen presumed Lavi knew the entire library by heart... he could quote an excerpt from any book with just the title and page number. The exorcist had been witness to such prowess in the Science department when Johnny couldn't remember the measurement of a mole… or was it temperature conversion? Either way, Lavi had recited it verbatim from memory; by page number and paragraph location no less!

Something was definitely wrong... Allen stared at his food, suddenly thought of eating disagreeable. Worry brewed in his stomach instead: he had to see what Lavi was up to… yes, that's exactly what he would do!

Resolute in his decision, Allen stood up, empty dishes clanking together as he set his hands on the table. His face wrested with concern as he pondered Lavi's current location... where was the antiquities section? Allen had only encountered the library once with Lavi to guide him, something for a mission, and he had still gotten lost! The plethora of volumes and parchment was engulfing at best to an outsider like himself. He would need someone who was familiar with the Order's labyrinth of a library... someone like Bookman.

He stacked the plates he used and absentmindedly loaded them on a cart to the kitchen, thanked Jerry with a halfhearted smile and headed off to Bookman territory.

With every approaching step, Allen's anxiety increased; gradually encumbering his optimism and making his journey to the Bookman's room painstakingly long. The more he thought about Lavi's strange behavior, the lower his heart seemed to sink, draining the color from his face and making his palms jittery. The redhead appeared so out of character… so vulnerable. Perhaps reliving the ark in ink had taken its toll on him, and rightfully so, considering how Rhode had controlled his mind… it unsettled Allen further, thinking his friend was left to suffer alone. The walls echoed his footsteps and offered little comfort as his thoughts were interrupted; Bookman's door coming into view, finding it surprisingly creaked open. With worry taking precedence over his usual manners, Allen stepped inside.

* * *

Bookman was sitting at a huge desk opposite to the bunk bed where he and Lavi slept most nights while at Headquarters. The only other desk in the room was much smaller, causing Lavi, his insufferably messy apprentice, to do most of his work in the library where he could spread everything out instead of keeping his tomes and parchment in neat piles like a Bookman should. He would have to start training him on proper desk etiquette soon. That and how to write without getting smudges on the parchment: Bookman had already counted three blots and seven smudges in Lavi's chronicle so far, and he was only two-hundred and eighty-seven pages in. Unacceptable. That was ten pages that needed to be re-written, at least. Sixty-seven of those pages were titles of all the books in the Ark's library before it was destroyed in the fight between exorcist Arystar Krory and the Noah duo collectively called Jasdevi. At the very least his apprentice knew how to save paper, writing the destroyed volumes in red ink instead of making a separate list for them... he wasn't as much of an idiot as he seemed.

The log was quite interesting in and of itself, despite being incomplete. Though Bookman couldn't blame Lavi for that; he couldn't be in two places at once. Unfortunately, that meant knowledge of what transpired between the exorcist Kanda and the Noah Skin Bolic was lost, as well as the outcome of the exorcist Krory's battle. Both had to be sacrificed in order to gain more knowledge of the upper levels of the Ark. If only there were more Bookmen to record history accurately, then...

"Bookman?" Allen called from inside the doorway, his voice cracking as if nervous.

"Yes, what is it Walker?" he grumbled. He hated to be interrupted while inspecting a log; that or at any other time, a fact which his own apprentice chose to ignore. But at least the Walker boy was polite, despite his informality.

"W-would you mind showing me around the library? I got lost last time..." Allen mumbled, apologetic in his tone. Bookman could be quite frightening sometimes.

"Why not get my stupid apprentice to show you?" Bookman quipped sardonically. "Now that he's completed his work, I bet he's bored out of his mind and would love a victim to pester."

"Well you see, that's why I'm here… I was just with Lavi in the mess hall and he was acting strange. He said he'd be in the antiquities section." Allen paused a moment, folding his hands and rocking on his heels. Clearing his throat, he continued: "I wanted to follow him to see if he's okay, but the library is so big! And getting lost wouldn't do Lavi any good. Could you help me find him?" He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. The old man probably thought Allen's concern trivial and unnecessary, but that never stopped the cursed boy from doing anything foolish before.

"The antiquities section, hmm?" Bookman frowned. Lavi had already devoured the antiquities section; he knew it by heart (Bookman made sure of that). Why would he go there? It was the darkest, most secluded part of the Black order... Bookman's aged eyes widened a fraction as he realized what was going on. It was a coded message, one only he would understand...

"Well then, let's go check on my idiot apprentice." Bookman stated as he rose from his desk and headed towards the library, Allen following, still worried and confused.

* * *

"What's so special about the antiquities section, anyway?" Allen mused, half mumbling as they entered the library.

"Be quiet." Bookman quipped toward the exorcist, grabbing a candle and placing it in a glass container before lighting it with a match.

Allen frowned at the mild scolding he received—was he missing something here? The library was dark, but it wasn't a cave! Bookman's irritation had also steadily progressed with each passing bookcase… it sent pinpricks of anxiety down Allen's arms: like some strange forbearance lie ahead. He swallowed, stepping prudently around what appeared to be crumpled parchment.

"Why do we need a candle? It's still daylight outside..." Allen asked, nervousness making him forget Bookman's previous command.

"The antiquities section has no windows, sunlight damages the pages. And didn't I tell you to be quiet? This is a library." Bookman frowned. If his suspicions were correct, they needed to be as quiet as possible; that required the white-haired exorcist to shut up. His previous reprimand seemed to have sunken into the buy's thick skull, though, as he was not longer attempting further conversation.

As they turned each corner, the windows became far and few between and, eventually, vanished all together; the light similarly departing from them. The only thing illuminating their path was the flame in Bookman's hand, kept dim by its glass encasing. The panda was suddenly thankful that the specially-made lantern, intended to prevent a fire should it be dropped, also had the benefit of emitting little light. Light was another thing they needed to avoid.

Allen began to understand why a candle was necessary- the library really was a cave, this far in._ It's so dark back here... Why would Lavi want to come to a place like this? _It really was quite odd... the redhead was always so exuberant. Imagining him holed away in such a dark place was peculiar at best.

But, try as he might, Allen simply couldn't legitimize Lavi's recent behavior... or Bookman's for that matter. The historian was usually grouchy, yes, but he had good humor about it. He rarely admonished Allen, or anyone else for that matter (except Lavi). He was strict, yes, but amiable enough in his own right. Before he could digress further into his thought medley, however, they stopped. The only noise, their clicking shoes on the tile which had become a comforting sonority, abruptly stopped—departing with a vacant echo and leaving the room hauntingly empty.

"What is it?" Allen whispered, noticing Bookman's hesitation. He heard a low, quiet moan from around the bookcase. Anticipation clutched his chest like a frog knot, looping his organs around and constricting his breathing.

"Allen," Bookman whispered, handing him the lantern as he walked into the darkness, "be quiet and keep the light as dim as possible."

The weight of the situation culminated, the knot twisting uneasily in his torso as he took the lamp, hands clammy under his ever-present gloves. Something was very wrong, he knew that much, and the corner was the only obstacle between finding out what.

But, despite his trepidation, Allen conquered the corner separating him and Bookman— and alarm struck him shortly after as Lavi's crumpled form came into view with Bookman knelt down beside him.

"Lavi…" Allen breathed, voice barely breaching a whisper. He suddenly felt frantic as the diminutive utterance had caused his friend to cringe in pain. The white-haired exorcist clenched his fist in a bout of frustration, momentarily allowing a sliver of light from the lantern to refract into the confined space. At this, Lavi moaned, hissing through clenched teeth. Bookman glared derisively at Allen, who had already adjusted his hand over the flame once more; his own expression grim.

_Lavi, how did this happen? Why didn't you tell anyone what was wrong?_ Allen slumped to his knees beside the redhead, hesitant to get closer for fear of hurting him. He'd not seen Lavi so contorted in pain since… well, since Rhode. In this instance, however, there was no akuma or Noah to kill, to ebb the torture. No fake smile or joke was going to alleviate Lavi's ailment, whatever it was. What use was his innocence if Allen couldn't help one of his own friends? He dropped his head, staring downward into gloved palms; his arm suddenly feeling bulky and cumbersome. If only there was something he could do…

While Allen became enclosed in thought, Bookman examined his apprentice, searching for any signs of injury or illness. The old man felt the redhead's wrist for a pulse: Lavi's hands were cold... too cold to be from the stone floor alone. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, yet he was shivering. There seemed to be no trace of a fever, however.

Then, upon further inspection, Bookman noticed something odd... Lavi was lying on his left side. His apprentice never slept on his left side, blind side upwards... it left him too vulnerable. The old panda quickly put two and two together.

"Lavi, can you stand?" He asked quietly, careful to keep the decibels of his voice low.

"Non..." the teen growled, teeth still ground tight from the offending candle.

_He's switching languages... not good_. Bookman puzzled over this new bit of information, deciding to play along. If French was what Lavi's mind was currently thinking in, then French so be it.

"Depuis combien de temps a été le dernier sursaut?" The old man questioned, getting straight to the point.

"Il...il ya trois minutes ... Je pense... que..." Lavi answered breathily, suppressing the urge to cry out.

Bookman nudged Allen to follow him as he stood and walked around the corner, far enough so Lavi wouldn't hear them. The white-haired exorcist exhaled slowly, snapping himself out of his momentary fugue as he breached the corner once more. He didn't wait long for an explanation.

"What's wrong with him?" Allen pleaded, his worry compounded by his confusion at the redhead's condition. "Has this happened before? Is there anything I can do?" Bookman stared at him for a moment and, ignoring his first question, replied: "There is nothing you can do for him, Walker. This must pass on its own. "

Allen shook his head, incredulous at the thought. "What do you mean it'll pass o—"

The old man raised his hand to intercede the white-haired exorcist's outburst. He sighed before continuing, trying to keep the atmosphere calm. "When did you first notice him acting strangely?"

"About an hour ago, now." Allen replied, suddenly feeling guilty he hadn't acted sooner on his instinct. "Can't we move him somewhere else? The floor can't be comfortable..." Allen implored, disconsolate of his friend's debilitating condition.

"Unfortunately no, it is far too bright inside the rest of headquarters right now. Moving him would only cause him more pain; we must wait until nightfall. Until then, he must stay here.

"We can't just leave him! You said so yourself that he's in pain!" Allen exclaimed, momentarily forgetting where he was. The echo vibrated and quickly dissipated against the narrow walls. Allen clenched his fists, white hair masking his eyes as he spoke again, voice low and subdued.

"I... I'll stay with him, then. I don't have any missions today and... and that way, if he gets worse... at least I can get help." He then looked up, his resolve solid.

Bookman raised a bald eyebrow. It would be better to have Lavi watched over, in case he did get worse... but what if Allen only added to the problem? This hadn't happened in over two years; anything could go wrong. Weighing the options in his head, searching like an algorithm for all possible outcomes, Bookman decided.

"You may remain here with him. I'd rather not give you so much information, but if you are going to watch over him, having knowledge on the basics of his condition is essential." Allen nodded, eyes narrowed in fervent concentration, as if taking mental notes. Bookman continued. "Avoid light and stay as quiet as possible. The next wave should be in... five minutes and 42 seconds, approximately. He is most likely nauseous, disoriented, and agitated. If anything worsens, come fetch me- but be discreet, it's bad enough you know about this." The old man straightened himself out and walked past Allen, towards the entrance.

"We will move him tonight. Tell no one of this. The Order need not meddle in Bookman affairs."


End file.
